This Isn’t a Motivational Article

I’ve talked about the weight of time before. That heavy, creeping feeling that shows up when the world gets quiet and your brain starts doing donuts. You think about where you’ve been, who you are now, and how the hell it all went by so fast. Gratitude meets panic. You’re thankful to still be here—also kind of pissed that this is what “making it” looks like.

Tonight I got a little too high—on legal weed, relax—and stumbled across a photo of me and my son from two years ago. He’s about to turn 8 this year. In that photo, I was less than a year sober, living in a one-bedroom shoebox I could barely afford, holding it together with dumb optimism and a microwave.

I looked fine in the pic. I was lying.

But I remember what I was thinking at that moment:
You can’t fuck this up. Not with him. Not anymore.

My son did save me in a way. I’d been perfectly fine letting myself down for most of my life. But letting him down? That wasn’t something I could stomach. He became the reason I started giving a shit—for real this time.

And just to be clear—I’m not trying to run some motivational sales guy douchebag shtick. I’ve met those dudes. All grins, all “morning routine” bullshit, all frauds. This ain’t that. I’m just a guy who got caught up in a nostalgia trip while high and decided to word-vomit his feelings upon you. Too bad.

Also—I turn 36 tomorrow.

And if I’m being honest, I’ve been thinking a lot about time. About my 20s. My teens. About the mountains of mistakes I’ve made—and yeah, there were a lot. Some I still carry with me. But with time—and definitely with sobriety—I’ve started to find clarity in learning how to accept the shit I can’t change. Still working on that every day.

Control is a hell of a thing. Sometimes it’s a trauma response dressed up like ambition. Sometimes it’s just fear in disguise. It’s a learned behavior, and if you don’t unpack it, it’ll stunt the hell out of your growth.

But I think I’m kicking fucking ass so far. Still got a long road ahead. But we keep walking.

Cue the Denzel Curry song.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

If you don’t find a purpose, life becomes this slow, sad shuffle of trying to impress people who won’t even share your shit on Instagram. Something that simple. They see it. They just don’t fuck with you. And that’s fine—just stop performing for them.

So yeah, fuck the box they try to put you in.
Fuck their version of you.
And fuck playing small so someone else can feel big.

And this is especially true if you come from a big-ass family full of opinions and expectations. Maybe your path wasn’t the one they picked out for you—maybe it scared them. Or embarrassed them. Or just didn’t fit their polished little version of “success.” Fuck that. It’s your life. You’re the one who has to live it, not sit through Sunday dinner pretending to be someone you’re not just to make them feel better. And yeah, sometimes the people who are supposed to love you no matter what? They’ll be the first ones to judge you for your mistakes, your choices, your passions. That shit hurts—but don’t let it shrink you. Don’t let their discomfort become your cage.

The weight of time doesn’t leave—it just learns your name. But if you’ve got a purpose, at least you’re walking forward with it on your back instead of getting dragged by it.

Basically, what I’m trying to say—through all this word vomit—is:
Time is running out. Faster than you think.
Especially if you’re actively numbing yourself every night. Just saying.
Time moves on—with or without you.

So figure out what’s important.

Quit that job. Start that thing. Stop bitching.
Stop taking everything so damn seriously.
You get one life. Yours—not the dickhead who thinks he’s better than you. Get me?

And yeah—I know Bukowski would hate this whole thing.
Too whiny. Not enough cigarettes. Not enough hookers.
Whatever.

And if none of this lands? That’s cool. I’m just trying to stay sober, show up for my kid, and not end up in the Taco Bell drive-thru. Fat fuck.

So yeah!—find your purpose. Or don’t. Once again, I just needed to share this with someone. And now you just wasted about 4 minutes reading all this. Im proud of you.
Keep kicking ass.
🤜